


we got your back (so don't be afraid anymore)

by Felurian



Series: rogue's one guide to survival [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: I swear they are, Kinda angsty at times but they're happy, Multi, Team as Family, also everyone cares for Cassian and they help him out, which I guess makes this Cassian-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felurian/pseuds/Felurian
Summary: Cassian Andor had expected to die at many points in his life. It’s something that comes with being a spy — something that’s always been with him. Before, staring death into eyes, he had no regrets. When a grenade exploded too close to him, sending him to the ground with a horrid crack of his bones; when an imperial officer drove a vibroblade to his side, hoping to coax out information from him; when he kneeled on the sand of Scarif, horizon disappearing right in front of him — he was ready to die, knowing he did all he could to aid the Rebellion. Nothing else mattered.Now, as he’s brought to his knees by an officer bearing insignia of the Empire, cold barrel of a blaster pressing into his temple, he’s anything but.Or, how the team is sent on their first official assignment and the simplest mission in Cassian's life turns to be one of the worst in a matter of seconds.Also, they rescue Kay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again!!! :D (sorry this took longer than expected, some personal stuff has been happening! also, as usual, different POV for different chapters)

Cassian Andor had expected to die at many points in his life. It’s something that comes with being a spy — something that’s always been with him. Before, staring death into eyes, he had no regrets. When a grenade exploded too close to him, sending him to the ground with a horrid crack of his bones; when an imperial officer drove a vibroblade to his side, hoping to coax out information from him; when he kneeled on the sand of Scarif, horizon disappearing right in front of him — he was ready to die, knowing he did all he could to aid the Rebellion. Nothing else mattered.

 

Now, as he’s brought to his knees by an officer bearing insignia of the Empire, cold barrel of a blaster pressing into his temple, he’s anything but. Cassian swallows thickly, careful not to move, even with his leg screaming in agony after being forcefully shoved to the hard, duracrete ground. He looks at Jyn, standing barely few feets before them with her own weapon raised, her expression unreadable, eyes alight with fire.

 

This is the furthest from how he expected the most routine mission in his life go. Then again, since Rogue One has been assembled, or, more specifically, since Jyn Erso has been brought to Yavin IV, nothing really goes according to plan anymore. Even simple supply runs, it seems.

 

With his heart thumping wildly in his chest, threatening to jump out any moment, captain Andor is hit with the realization that dying is the last thing he wants to happen.

 

The blaster to his head is a painful reminder it might be too late.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_APPROXIMATELY 36 STANDARD HOURS EARLIER, ABOARD SHIP HOME ONE, TEMPORARY REBEL ALLIANCE HQ_

 

 

The mission that will later cause Cassian much distress starts perfectly normal, nothing suggesting any sorts of trouble waiting for the team. It all begins when the captain seeks them out in the mess during the breakfast time, much to the chagrin of terribly hungover Jyn Erso.

 

Usually, she’s one of the first there to grab a meal, still not quite used to the luxury of being able to get food thrice a day — not that it’s anything amazing, mind you, Jyn remembers that even Papa used to cook tastier dishes back on Lah’mu — but it’s food nonetheless, and she doesn’t have to worry about not being able to pay for it, usually forced to steal or having to go hungry for _days_. This morning, however, she wakes up barely in time to catch Bodhi, together with Baze and Chirrut, already finishing their breakfast, Cassian nowhere in sight (which, generally speaking, she’s grateful for, because that means she won’t have to deal with his scrutinous gaze as he asseses the damage that last night has inflicted upon her).

 

Jyn slams her tray with breakfast on the table, almost spilling her caf in the process and takes a seat next to Bodhi. Chirrut smiles at her in a way that’s too-well-knowing for her liking and, to her dismay, so does Baze.

 

“Um, Jyn,” Bodhi starts and she looks up at him, fork in her mouth. “You okay? You look a little...”

 

He trails off, as if not wanting to use a word that might earn him an elbow to the gut but Jyn just waves it off, too tired to argue.

 

“M’ fine,” she manages to say, mouth full of food. Across from her, Chirrut chuckles knowingly and she glares in his direction.

 

Sadly, Jyn doesn’t get to enjoy her breakfast for much longer, as a familiar voice calls from behind her, “Good, you’re all here.”

 

She turns around and meets the view that is Cassian Andor, standing few feet away from their table and, for a person who has barely healed from their injuries, managing to look much better than her. Which, she thinks bitterly, is logical, given that he probably spent last night resting, instead of losing his blaster in a game of sabacc, along with sobriety.

 

In retrospective, she can’t help but think it wasn’t her brightest idea. But then again, Jyn doesn’t cope well with having to stay in the same place for weeks while not doing anything useful in particular — sure, they gave her some lesser jobs from time to time, but none of them were _enough_. When she heard that Han Solo was setting up a game night for some of the pilots, along with his wookie companion, she was more than happy to join them to take her mind off the accusatory glances being thrown her way in the ship corridors.

 

(She knows very well they have more than enough of a reason to hate her. It makes her blood boil, shame crawling her skin at the same time. Still, she doesn’t fight them).

 

If Cassian is surprised by her less than presentable appearance, he doesn’t let it show and she’s not sure whether to be annoyed or relieved by that fact.

 

“What’s happening?” Bodhi asks, sounding equally nervous and interested. Not that she can blame him — Jyn herself can’t read much from Cassian’s blank face either.

 

What happens next, though, comes as a surprise to all of them; probably excluding only Chirrut, who usually seems to sense more than just the obvious.

 

Cassian walks up behind Jyn and Bodhi and rests his hands on the backs of their chairs, smile — actual, genuine smile — finding its way to his lips. “We’re going on a mission.”

 

It takes a moment for his words to click in. Few weeks had passed since their suicide mission on Scarif and while their injuries are mostly healed by now, the Council still keeps them all inside the base — or ship, to be specific, because since Yavin IV was evacuated the Rebel Alliance is scattered all over galaxy, using different temporary hideouts and their fleet as quarters. It’s not a comfortable or lasting solution, but till they manage to establish a new base far from the Empire’s clutches, it’s good enough.

 

If she’s to be honest, Jyn isn’t sure _why_ exactly they haven’t been on any kind of mission already. She suspects that the Council still takes them as a wild card, even after all they’ve done for the cause, and they prolonged sending Rogue One off for as long as possible. Cassian probably had to pull some strings to make that happen, perhaps seeing how miserable staying on Home One and doing nothing made everyone feel.

 

“What kind of mission?” Jyn asks, hoping the excitement in her voice isn’t obvious, as she awkwardly twists her neck to look at Cassian, still hovering over her and Bodhi.

 

He glances downwards and raises his brows ever so slightly.

 

“Something simple, don’t get too excited.” Before she has any chance to say that everything is exciting after spending weeks on a ship where half of the people expect her to be a traitor, he adds, “Meet me in the Command Centre, I’ll tell you everything. I expect to see you all on a briefing in five.”

 

With that, Cassian straightens himself up and begins to walk away.

 

“Wait!” She calls after him, just as Bodhi nods at his words. “You mean hours?”

 

He stops and turns around, his features schooled into a stern look, brows furrowed but even from the distance, Jyn can see amusement shining in his brown eyes.

 

“Minutes. You better be in the CC in five standard minutes.”

 

She’s not the one to complain, they both know that, but being as hungover and unrested as she is now, Jyn argues, “I barely started my breakfast. My caf is still hot!”

 

“Then you better eat quick. And down that caf on the go, we got work to do.”

 

“But—”

 

“Less talking, more eating. Don’t spend the evening on gambling with Solo next time, and you might feel better.”

 

Jyn glares at his retreating form, ignoring the laughter that comes from Chirrut. With a curse under her breath, she reaches for her steaming cup of caf, deciding that if she has to chose, she’d rather stay awake on the briefing that Cassian has prepared, even if he’s a complete nerfherder.

 

“ _Kriff_! That’s hot!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The mission, as it turns out, really is simple — perhaps more than any of them expected, Bodhi thinks, recalling Jyn’s disappointed expression at the briefing, as Cassian laid out the plan and details before them. He didn’t miss it, of course, nothing ever goes past the spy’s attention, and emphasized that even though the supply run sounds boring, it’s their first official mission — _no, Jyn, Scarif doesn’t count_ — and if everything goes smoothly, the Council will agree to send them out more often, and on more complicated assignments, too.

 

As Bodhi sits in the cockpit of the cargo shuttle provided by the Rebellion, preparing to take off from the one of Home One hangars, he can’t really bring himself to agree with Jyn. He supposes that stealing some supplies from an under-guarded Imperial outpost must appear boring for someone like Jyn, who spent her entire life fighting, but Bodhi? It sounds pretty amazing to him.

 

The truth is, there are days when it’s still hard for him to believe that he actually got away from the Empire. That there he is now, alive, working for the Rebellion, among people he can trust. Who can trust _him_.

 

Force knows that he’s not innocent, he’s seen his share of blood spilled in the galactic war, but it’s always been from the sidelines, delivering cargo from one outpost to another. Bodhi never really saw the immensity of it until Jedha, never really had to fight for not only his life, but also lives of his companions until their mission on Scarif, which nearly cost him everything.

 

He still wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, shirt soaked with sweat, name of Galen or Tonc on his lips as a reminder of a hoarse scream, shaking as the memories of Bor Gullet’s torture fill his mind, making him question what’s real and what’s not — but in the end, what Bodhi knows is this: he’s the pilot. He brought the message. His weaknesses aren’t going to stop him in aiding the Rebel Alliance the best he can, even if it means doing things he’s scared of.

 

Bodhi Rook is not a coward.

 

The flight controler’s voice booms in his headphones, allowing him to take off and disconnecting with _may the Force be with you, Rogue One_. He smiles, as his hands grasp firmly the handles, calmed by the familiar feel that is sitting in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit. In the back of the ship, he can hear Baze and Chirrut’s playful bickering.

 

“I leave you alone for a second, and you’re already flying us away?”

 

To his credit, Bodhi doesn’t jump up when Cassian silently slides onto the seat next to him, only glances in his direction, surprised, but with his focus still remaining on the controls.

 

“Uh,” he grunts, not sure whether the captain is mad at him or not. “They gave us permission to take off so I thought—”

 

“Relax,” Cassian cuts in as he puts his own headset on, “you’re the pilot now.”

 

He says it casually as always, like he’s simply stating the fact, but Bodhi feels something in him swell with pride. Instead of letting it show, however, he decides to change the subject. “So. How it’d go back there? Jyn managed to change your mind?” He asks, slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

 

Cassian frowns at him.

 

“If you mean whether we’re going acquire a new body for Kay or not,” he speaks carefully, “then yes, I agreed it’s something we can do but _only_ if it doesn’t compromise our main goal in any way.”

 

Bodhi has to stop himself from snorting, realizing it’s not something that Cassian would appreciate in this moment.

 

“That’s what you’ve told her?”

 

For someone who’s been trained how to work around people, it appears to him as if Cassian still has some problems with understanding Jyn Erso — and given how her eyes sparked on the briefing when she came up with the idea that this mission is a perfect opportunity for stealing an enforcer droid, Bodhi somehow doubts that captain’s words are going to stop her.

 

“More or less. Why do you ask?”

 

“No reason,” Bodhi says, smirk on his lips. “Entering the hyperspace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the caf scene is totes a reference to a rly cool show, if u get this then kudos to u!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the delay! i was struggling with some terrible writer's block. next chapter should come sooner, as it's already halfway written. i'm leaving for short vacation tomorrow, so hopefully that will bring some inspiration, too :D

The flight to Formos, small planet known for its smuggling aspect where the Imperial outpost they’re supposed to rob is situated, is a relatively short one, for which Baze is grateful. His experience when it comes to flying prior to joining the Rebel Alliance is almost non-existent and he still finds himself quite unsettled by the strange feeling that travelling in hyperspace leaves behind. It’s something that amuses Chirrut to no end and he never misses the opportunity to tease him about it, but after so many years together, he learned to pay it no mind.

 

The shuttle that the Rebellion provided for their mission is an old Imperial cargo ship — one that would definitely raise questions in bigger garrisons, but should work just fine on Formos. Its interior, however, is startingly similar to the shuttle they’ve stolen on Eadu and it’s not a comforting thought at all.

 

Trying to get his mind off painful memories that Scarif brings with it, Baze watches as Jyn checks her blaster for what seems like fifth time after they boarded the shuttle, a smirk finding its way to his lips. She’s been almost buzzing with energy the entire flight, something that even his partner didn’t miss (not that he’s surprised; Chirrut always senses some things, often even before others can actually see them).

 

“You’re really excited for this, eh?” He lets the question slip, mirth shining through his words.

 

Jyn looks up, her eyes wide, as if she’s caught doing something she shouldn’t be. But then, her expression softens and she shrugs.

 

“Everything’s better than sitting at Home One and cleaning old X-Wings.”

 

Baze nods; he knows how restless she felt on the ship, not having any real occupation. She never complained, but it was still obvious, as she wandered through the hallways, trying make herself useful somehow.

 

They all felt this way, he supposes, even if they didn’t voice it.

 

“You didn’t have this much enthusiasm on the briefing,” Chirrut quips in, innocently.

 

Jyn squints at him, forcing Baze to swallow a laugh threatening to escape his mouth.

 

“Because it was _boring_ ,” she says as if it’s obvious.

 

“What was boring?”

 

Neither of them notice captain Andor quietly entering the cargo hold, his brows raised as he looks at Jyn, who suddenfly finds her blaster to be of utter importance. As Baze glances at Chirrut, sitting next to him, he realizes that his partner must have heard Cassian leaving the cockpit, judging by the playful smile on his lips.

 

“Nothing,” Jyn says quickly. “Are we finally landing?”

 

Cassian watches her suspiciously for a while longer before responding, “ETA five standard minutes. Everyone knows their roles?”

 

They nod, but across from him Baze sees Jyn roll her eyes at the question; true, they’ve gone over what seems like the simplest plan ever possibly a dozen times now, but he can’t blame captain Andor for being cautious. Force knows that Baze isn’t one for strategy, but he spent enough time around the rebels to understand that this mission, however trivial it may seem, might be crucial to Rogue One remaining a team. It’s not a secret that General Draven isn’t keen on the idea of their five working together — half of the Alliance knows it, and Cassian knows it best of them all. Any mistake would probably mean disbanding the squadron that was never even truly formed, despite everything they’ve done for the cause. _Military is military_ , he thinks grimly, even if _they’re rebels_.

 

So no, Baze doesn’t hold it against captain Andor for being careful, even if he can also understand why Jyn is already fed up with him.

 

“I’m sure we do, captain,” Chirrut says pleasantly. Cassian nods and turns around, presumably to go back to the cockpit, but stops in his tracks.

 

“Remember,” he speaks, looking pointedly at Jyn, “that our main goal is to secure the cargo. If we manage to find a body for Kay — assuming that they even have enforcer droids on Formos — we get it only after we have the supplies on our ship. Understood?”

 

Baze grunts affirmatively, even though he’s pretty sure that this reminder isn’t directed at him or Chirrut (or at least he hopes so; one can never know what idea his partner will come up with).

 

Jyn stays silent, her gaze fierce as if she’s trying to stare Cassian down.

 

“Understood?” He repeats his question, voice harsher than before.

 

“Yes, _captain_.”

 

This mission might turn out to be much more interesting than they first thought, Baze thinks, equally amused and worried.

 

* * *

 

 

The landing goes exceedingly smoothly. Chirrut stands behind Bodhi’s seat in the cockpit, already donned up in his disguise for the mission, as they make their approach, the murmur of player on his lips. He listens attentively to the chatter on the radio, but it is exactly as captain Andor predicted — the Imperials on Formos don’t seem even half as diligent as the forces that were stationed on Jedha.

 

The soldier on the other side of the radio dismisses them with casual “ _alright, proceed to the landing pad, we ain’t got whole day_ ” and Chirrut can’t help but smile. He senses Cassian relax next to them, appearing less tense than before.

 

“Doesn’t seem like they pay much attention to security, does it?” He can’t help but ask.

 

“No,” Cassian admits, “they really don’t.”

 

“Well, I’m not gonna complain about it,” Bodhi says, sounding almost cheerful. A wave of fondness washes over Chirrut, and not for the first time — he’s taken a liking to the Jedhan boy, who had to witness the destruction of their home along him and Baze.

 

“Still, it’s strange. After the destruction of the Death Star, security was raised to ridiculous levels.” Cassian sounds a little anxious as he speaks, though Chirrut can tell he’s trying to mask it well with indifference. It might work on Bodhi, but not much goes past him. “They never really cared about protocols in Formos Garrison, Force knows this city is run by smugglers, but this seems really sloppy, even for them. Be cautious outside.”

 

The shuttle makes it safely to the ground as Chirrut nods at the captain’s words. He can’t really feel anything being wrong, not yet, but if Cassian asks him to be careful, he will try to follow his request the best he can.

 

“Alright, it’s time. Put your helmet on.”

 

Their plan is fairly simple and, in a way, similar to the strategy they chose on Scarif — disguise themselves as stormtroopers and hope for the best, as they try to fool the Imperial soldiers. Thankfully, the Alliance always has few uniforms to spare, and so Chirrut ends up wearing the white plasteel armour, along with captain Andor. Having to wear a helmet isn’t ideal, as it dulls his hearing significantly, but neither Jyn nor Baze would fit well enough in the armours and Bodhi’s to stay near the shuttle, making sure they can escape from the planet as quickly as possible if things go awry.

 

He follows Bodhi out of the ship, together with Cassian. Baze and Jyn stay in the cargo hold, waiting till their cover works — and they’re allowed to “re-locate” the supplies — or they’re unmasked, in which case they’d jump out to aid them in fight.

 

(Chirrut really hopes it’s not the latter; the unfamiilar armour restricts his movement and while he managed to hide his hearing aid panel underneath its bulk, he’s still not quite as prepared for a potential fight as he’d like to be, not without his trusty staff).

 

Someone approaches them, their step light on the crunching gravel.

 

“Hello,” Bodhi speaks, sounding perfectly casual. “We’re here for—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” bored voice, distorted by the helmet’s speakers, cuts him off. In his mind, Chirrut can imagine the man waving them off. “Cargo relocation, am I right? It’s all we’re doing these days, since those blasted rebels kriffed everything up. I swear, we’re sending away more ships than Formosian smugglers and that’s saying something.”

 

“Alright, then we’ll just—”

 

The stormtrooper seems not to be listening to Bodhi at all and Chirrut has to stifle a laugh as the man continues to complain.

 

“I’m telling you, man, this place is just so boring, you know? There’s a nice cantina in the city but that’s all. Other than that, it’s just the receiving the shipments, sending the shipments, repacking the shipments. I kriffin’ hate it.”

 

“That does sounds awful,” Bodhi finally manages to say, barely concealing the amusement in his voice.

 

“You have no idea,” the trooper replies sourly. “Well, what are you waiting for? I’m not gonna load the cargo for you.”

 

Next to him, Cassian shifts impatiently on his feet, appearing to be bored, even though Chirrut knows he’s anything but. He plays his role well, though.

 

“What about the form?” Bodhi asks.

 

The trooper sighs exasperatedly.

 

“Ask the guy in the hangar about it. If that’s all, I’d rather return to my holovid.”

 

“Um, yeah, sure.”

 

Bodhi calls out to Jyn and Baze before the stormtrooper can leave; however, he doesn’t seem surprised by the sight of two more people emerging from the shuttle, because he doesn’t comment on it in any way. Then again, from what Cassian said on the briefing, it’s not unusual for the Empire to work with the smugglers, especially on Formos — and they certainly fit the imagine nicely.

 

“Well,” Jyn whispers as she walks up to them with Baze, whose hand briefingly touches Chirrut’s; a small, but appreciated gesture of reassurance, “that was easy.”

 

In his mind, Chirrut quitely agrees with her; the Force seems to be on their side today.

 

* * *

 

 

Jyn finds her first official Rebellion mission to be much more boring than she expected. It’s not that she’d like some sort of trouble, mind you — she _does_ care about the safety of her companions after all, especially seeing how Cassian and Bodhi still have some problems with walking after the injuries they suffered — but loading crates with all sorts of supplies needed by the Alliance doesn’t fit the image of her dream assignment. Not to mention, it gets tiring after first fifteen standard minutes, and not in the familiar, almost pleasant way that fight does. The fact that they have to walk through almost the entire outpost to get from the hangar to their shuttle — whoever designed this place was a real laserbrain — doesn’t help either, and the hover trolley that could help them out apparently broke some time ago, as one of the stormtroopers on duty has informed them.

 

“This should be the last of them,” Baze grunts, lifting up a crate that’s labelled as _FLAMMABLE, PROCEED WITH CAUTION_ in big, bright red letters.

 

“You sure?” Jyn asks, her gaze wandering over to all the boxes that still stand in hangar. “We could squeeze few more of them in the ship, I think.”

 

Baze makes a strange motion with his shoulders, as if he’s trying to shrug, but the crate he’s holding stops him from doing so.

 

“Not really my call, little sister.”

 

He motions towards Cassian standing few feet away from them, disguised as a stormtrooper. He turns in their direction, overhearing them, but his face is hidden away by the helmet.

 

“We could grab few more,” he agrees, voice unrecognizable.

 

“I’ll be sure to thank you later, when my back is killing me,” Baze grumbles, walking away with the cargo. Chirrut laughs quietly next to him, though the sound feels wrong coming through the helmet’s voice distorting speakers and Jyn barely supresses a shudder that runs along her spine.

 

Soon, they’re left alone in the hangar, save for the trooper dozing off at his post.

 

“More explosives?” She asks, already reaching for the crate next to her feet. Cassian only nods, for which Jyn is grateful; she’d rather not hear him or Chirrut speaking through their helmets more than necessary.

 

They’re halfway to the shuttle when an officer with six troopers blocks their way. Jyn immediately tenses, clutching the crate she’s carrying tightly to her chest.

 

Maybe she shouldn’t have complained about this mission being too simple.

 

“Halt,” the officer speaks coldly. “Where do you think you’re going with this cargo?”

 

Jyn opens her mouth to speak but Cassian beats her to it.

 

“We’re just finishing up loading the shuttle, sir. Our orders—”

 

The officer raises his hand to quiet him down, his expression clearly unimpressed.

 

“There are no supply runs scheduled today, soldier.”

 

Jyn is already figuring out the best way to handle this fight — if she shoves the crate right at them, it should give her a moment long enough to draw her weapons — but next to her, Cassian is still trying to save the situation.

 

“It must be a mistake, sir. We’ve been sent from Tattoine, I’m sure if you contact my Commanding Officer, he’d explain everything.”

 

For a second, Jyn thinks that it might actually work, as the officer asseses them with his cold eyes, but then he smiles maliciously.

 

“Do you take me for stupid? I’ve dealt with enough rebels to know your methods. Seize them!”

 

Everything that comes next happens in a flash. Jyn throws the heavy crate at the troopers with all her might — which isn’t as effective as she’d hoped for, but does the job of forcing them to jump away well enough — and draws her truncheons, sparing a brief glance at Cassian to make sure that his blaster is already in his hands.

 

She doesn’t hesitate, jumping to the nearest trooper and striking him powerfully before he can even grab his blaster. He falls limply to the ground but she wastes no time, already moving towards her next opponent, her truncheons sweeping briskly in the air before she connects them with the stormtrooper’s helmet. One of the soldiers yells weakly as a blaster shot hits him straight in the stomach and Jyn lets herself draw a deep breath. Three down, four more to go; they might still win this fight.

 

Another trooper soon falls after being shot by Cassian and Jyn manages to down one more. Victorious, she moves to the remaining soldier, but the cold voice of the officer makes her stop dead in her tracks.

 

“Freeze, or I’ll blow your friend’s head off.”

 

Slowly, she turns around, blood pumping in her ears. Before her, the Imperial officer presses his blaster into Cassian’s temple, having already removed his helmet and shoving him to the ground.

 

Jyn curses under her breath; how could she forget the blasted officer and let him out of her sight? He’s the one she should have gone after first, instead of fighting the stormtroopers.

 

She stands rooted to the ground, her gaze never leaving the officer’s blaster. 

 

Force help her, she won't let Cassian die; not now, not this way, not after they both almost died on Scarif. 

 

After all, he's the one who taught her hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so SO sorry about the late update!!!

Bodhi doesn’t dare to admit to himself — let alone anyone else — that he’s bored on his first official Alliance mission but the truth is, he kind of is. There is only so much one can do when pretending to be an Imperial cargo pilot and frankly, he’s had enough of it during his days of actually serving the Empire. It was, and still is, a relatively safe job, with a higher survival rate than TIE fighters pilots for sure, but a non-arguably less interesting one as well.

 

Only, now there’s something else to do besides the endless wait for the cargo to be loaded, or going over the manifest on his datapad for a dozen of times. Now there’s a sensation of exciment simmering right beneath his skin, the knowledge that while he could very well still be on a route to Eadu, transporting Force knows what, a mask so easy to slip into that it felt almost scary, is overshadowed by the fact that he’s _not_. He’s here, yes, in an Imperial outpost, wearing an Imperial uniform, flying an Imperial cargo ship, but it’s not who he is. He was exactly that man once, yes, but not anymore.

 

What he is now, is a rebel, and there’s nothing Bodhi would trade it for, even if he’s still not entirely sure what it means.

 

He does know, however, that even though he’s spent few last standard hours waiting in the shuttle, watching as Baze and Jyn load the heavy cargo crates while being bored out of his mind, what they’re doing actually matters. Not in the same glorious way that stealing the plans from Scarif did, but in a smaller, more trivial way, yet important all the same. If he’s to be honest with himself, playing the hero felt good, yes, but he doesn’t mind doing something like this either. It’s not the uncharted waters anymore, unlike on Scarif — now he knows exactly what to do and when, and can try his best to make sure that their mission is successful. Bodhi learns that he likes it, that sense of being useful, feeling in control of the situation.

 

It’s after a short trip to the ‘fresher when he accidentally overhears a stormtrooper talking on his comm. At first, he’s ready to ignore him and go back to the shuttle, but then the imperial soldier curses loudly and he stops dead in his tracks, ducking behind the corner just in case.

 

For a moment, there’s silence and Bodhi begins to think he’s being paranoid, but then the distinctive sound of static appears again.

 

“TS-2397, do you copy?” Comes the trooper’s voice, sounding annoyed even through the helmet’s speakers.

 

The reply from TS-2397 comes few moments later but Bodhi can make out only seperate words from the distance. It’s not a long one, though, and the stormtrooper starts speaking soon enough.

 

“We’ve got company. Yeah, Eighty-Nine just commed me, they sent over an inspection. I know, I know— No, you don’t understand, they’ve just landed. They’re here right now! Okay, calm down, just turn off all the holovids and clean up the mess, I’m sure it’s not gonna take long—”

 

 _Kriff_. Of course _that_ would happen right when they were sent to raid this outpost. It couldn’t have gone another way, could it now?

 

Bodhi listens to the stormtrooper for a while longer, but he doesn’t say anything else that could be useful, and soon his voice quiets down as he walks away. Still, Bodhi counts to sixty to make sure that the imperial is truly gone before he dares to peek around the corner.

 

He’s painfully aware of what the outside inspection means, having to endure more than enough of those during his days in the Empire — it’s checking the cargo, making sure it’s all according with the manifest, scanning the crew’s docs... Given that everything at the base that’s undergoing the inspection everything is fine. Bodhi has no doubt that the team sent to check Formos outpost is going to learn of their little unscheduled cargo rellocation within few standard minutes of their arrival, and the aftermath isn’t going to be pretty. Usually, they sent over an officer with a squad of stormtroopers and that... well, let’s say he’d rather not meet them after his identity has been uncovered, and right now, it’s probably a matter of seconds.

 

Bodhi feels panic slowly creeping up on him, but he tries to shake it off, taking few deep breaths. Returning to the shuttle right now is a terrible idea, seeing as the landing pad is probably crawling with the imperials already, and ones that aren’t quite as dim and nonchalant about their job as the locals are. What he can do right now, and what probably would be the best idea, though, is warning the others.

 

He reaches for his comlink with sweaty hands and, after briefly checking his surroundings, punches the button.

 

“This is Rogue, come in, we have an emergency. I repeat, we have an emergency, come in!” Bodhi is aware that he sounds desperate, but so is the situation.

 

The speaker crackles and comes to life after few seconds.

 

“ _I’m here, Rogue. What’s going on?_ ” The voice on the other side unmistakably belongs to Baze and Bodhi lets out a breath of relief.

 

“Don’t go to the shuttle, there’s an outside inspection. I don’t know much but I overheard one of the troopers, apparently they just landed, I’m sure they already know about us.” He hears the other man curse. “Is everyone else with you or—?”

 

“ _No, we split. How many_ _soldiers are there?_ ”

 

“Usually it’s no more than a dozen, but they take so many with them only to the big outposts, so I don’t think there should be—”

 

He cuts off, hearing noises coming from the corridor. Cautiously, he peeks around the corner and surely, in the distance he can just make out the officer leading a squad of stormtroopers. Bodhi quickly returns to his cover and starts walking almost mechanically in long, quick strides.

 

“Shit,” he murmurs to himself, before remembering that his comlink is still on. “Nevermind what I just said, they’re already here. I gotta hide. Try to get ahold of the others.”

 

“ _Got it, Rogue. Be careful._ ”

 

Bodhi turns off the comlink, wary of the footsteps growing louder behind him. He hurries up his pace, throwing away the idea of staying and fighting them, because while he’s sure that’s something Jyn would do, he most certainly lacks the combat skills to do so.

 

He takes an abrupt stop upon noticing a storage door. It’s a stretch, hiding in a storage room, but the imperials are probably headed to the hangar currently emptied by everyone else, and they have no idea he’s actually here, no reason to search for him. Without a second thought, Bodhi slides the door open, and steps in.

 

The darkness falls upon him as the door closes and he breathes heavily, listening to the sounds outside. After few moments, he hears the officer with troopers walking briskly by the storage room, their boots loud on the duracrete ground. He lets out a sigh when their footsteps fade away.

 

Suddenly, a blinding light flashes right into his eyes. Bodhi instinctively shields his face with his hands, blinking furiously.

 

Before his eyesight can return to normal, a mechanical voice announces, “Your presence here is an abnormality. Why are you in this room, pilot?”

 

He swallows thickly, coming face to face with a half-dismantled enforcer droid, its left eye missing, the remaining one fixed on him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fight is going well — hell, Force knows he and Jyn have been through worse back on Jedha — so well that somehow, Cassian completely misses the officer slipping away from the scene happening before him. He could blame it on the fact that he’s too focused on making sure that Jyn doesn’t get shot by one of the troopers (though she seems to be in her element, sending one soldier after another to the ground as she spins around them with her truncheons) but the truth is, it’s his own fault for not paying enough attention.

 

Next thing he knows, he’s being shoved forcefully to the ground, his blaster flying out of his hand and landing few kicks away; too far for him to reach it. His knees meet the duracrete and Cassian lets out a hiss of pain as he feels something tear in his right leg which has been injured on Scarif. It blinds him only for a moment but it’s enough for the officer to gain the upper hand — he kicks him in the back, making Cassian stumble and before he can get up, he feels barrel of blaster pressing into his neck.

 

“Don’t you think about running away,” the imperial snarls and pulls off his helmet, knocking it into his nose in the process. The relief mixes with pain but the former is gone soon enough, as the officer decides to put the blaster to his temple.

 

Cassian watches, helpless, as he calls out to Jyn, who stands victorious among the fallen stormtroopers. She turns around, her blaster already pointed at the imperial as something dangerous flashes in her eyes.

 

The officer yanks him painfully by his hair, forcing Cassian to raise his head. In front of them, Jyn takes a slow step forward, her brows furrowed, her sharp gaze never leaving his. He can see sweat dripping down the side of her face, strands of hair sticking to her flushed cheeks.

 

“If you don’t want your friend to die,” the man holding him speaks, his voice cold, “you’ll lower your weapon.”

 

Jyn doesn’t move a muscle, rooted to the spot she’s standing on. In his mind, Cassian curses their luck — he was foolish to think that this mission could go smoothly, letting his guard down. He should have known better.

 

“Do as I say, rebel scum,” the imperial says, pressing his blaster harder into Cassian’s temple and he can’t help but wince. He desperately looks around, searching for someone — something, anything — that could help them out in this hopeless situation but finds nothing.

 

 _Go_ , he thinks, looking at Jyn, praying that she understands what he’s trying to tell her. If they take him captive but the rest of the team manages to run away — it’s gonna be okay. He has no doubt in his mind that they wouldn’t betray the Rebellion, no matter what the Empire would throw at them, but he also knows their methods far too well. The mere thought of his companions having to endure imperial tortures makes him shudder.

 

To his dismay, Jyn takes another step towards them.

 

The officer’s hold on him tightens as he yells, “Make another step and I’ll blow his head off!”

 

Cassian doesn’t know whether it’s officer’s words or something else that makes her change her tactic, but, ever so slowly, Jyn lowers her blaster.

 

Then, to the surprise of both of them, she shrugs. “I don’t give a kriff about what you do with him.”

 

He knows it’s not true — it’s _not_ , she does care — but the way she says it, her expression almost bored, it’s kind of hard not to believe her. Under any other circumstances, if he didn’t have a blaster pressed to the side to his head, if there wasn’t a voice in the back of his mind whispering _what if she actually means that?_ , he’d be impressed by how nonchalant the fiery Jyn Erso manages to make herself sound.

 

“Like I would believe you,” the officer scoffs.

 

She doesn’t miss a beat, her expression cold as she replies, “It’s true. He’s only important because he flew me here. But now? The coordinates are in, I can just return on auto-pilot.”

 

That’s a bunch of bantha’s shit because it’s Bodhi who piloted the ship, but Jyn delivers her line sounding convincing enough. He barely notices her gaze flickering briefly to the right, as if she’s checking something, but her focus is back on the imperial soon enough.

 

“Then why’d not leave already? Why have you stayed if you don’t care about him?”

 

Jyn smiles unpleasantly at the man, her teeth bared menacingly. Despite her small posture, she reminds him of an alderaanian wolf cat, toying with its prey.

 

“Oh, well, you know,” she says. “Hard to keep a good pilot around these days, isn’t it?”

 

Next things Cassian knows, there’s a defeaning sound of a blaster shot right next to his ear, but it’s not him that falls lifeless to the ground — it’s the officer. He glances around, more shocked than anything else, to see grinning Baze on one of the roofs, something that looks suspiciously like _his_ own rifle in the man’s hands. Chirrut stands next to him, casually leaning on his staff.

 

His attention is quickly brought back to Jyn as she kneels before him, her gloved hands suddenly on his face. He notices her fingers trembling as she gazes over him, searching for injuries.

 

“Kriff, Cassian, are you okay?”

 

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. She brushes away his sweaty hair, concern clear in her green eyes as she looks at the place where the blaster had been pressed to his head just moments ago. It’s tempting to lean into the safety of her soothing touch, but somehow, he resists.

 

“I’m fine,” he finally says, voice hoarse. It’s true — his leg is throbbing with dull pain and he’s more shaken than he’d like to admit but otherwise, he’s fine.

 

She yanks her hand away then, and he doesn’t allow himself to miss it, knowing it’s not something to get used to. Besides, his toughts drift elsewhere.

 

Cassian always had only Kay to rely on when things went south, and that is given the droid accompanied him on the mission. To know that he has people looking out for him now — it’s strange and unfamiliar, but makes warmth spread in his chest.

 

(It’s also _terrifying_ , learning that he can depend on someone other than himself. Realizing that he _needs_ them).

 

“I was scared for a second there,” Jyn admits, shaking her head. “I saw Baze on the roof but that blasted imperial had the blaster on you and I didn’t know how to stall him—”

 

“Jyn,” he cuts her off, corners of his lips turning upwards in attempt of a weak smile. “You did good.”

 

She sends him a look that is full of disbelief.

 

“Really, that was good job. I’ve worked with agents who would lose their heads in a situation like that.”

 

He doesn’t mention that he had to kill one of them to avoid getting discovered by imperial troops. It’s not something that he’s proud of, nor does it feel like a right moment to bring it up.

 

“Yeah, I’d rather stick with beating them up next time. Come on, let’s get out of here before his friends arrive.” Jyn helps him to get up, her grip on Cassian strong and supportive. She doesn’t comment as he sways on his feet at first, testing how much pressure he can put on his barely healed leg, which hurts now as if a bantha stepped on it.

 

Baze and Chirrut jog up to them just as he decides that he can walk to their shuttle, where Bodhi must be getting anxious for them already, with help from Jyn, who silently offers him her shoulder to lean on, and he gratefully accepts.

 

(Memories of Scarif flood his mind, her body flush against his as she lends him her strength in what should have been their final moments and he clutches desperately to her, consciousness slipping—

 

He pushes it all away, to the place where the soldiers buried under sand lay, together with the remnants of imperial archives).

 

“The Force was on your side today, captain,” Chirrut speaks, walking up to him, his disguise already disregarded, probably back at the ship.

 

From the other side, Baze sends him a look that’s equally tired and annoyed; not that his partner can see it.

 

“The Force?” He asks with a bark of laughter. “I just shot the kriffin’ imperial officer and the Force stood by and watched, not the other way around.”

 

He turns to Cassian then, “Speaking of, captain, that’s a nice rifle you have here. Think I can get another one like that at commissary?”

 

Cassian only nods, exchaning an amused look with Jyn as they slowly make their way towards the shuttle.

 

“How can I know if you really did?” Chirrut says.

 

“What?”

 

“My dear, you always seem to forget, but I’m blind. Which means that, actually, I have no idea whether you shot the imperial soldier, or just watched as the Force decided to snuff the life out of him.”

 

Baze’s groan is barely audible over Chirrut’s joyful laughter.

 

“You—”

 

“How did you know we needed help?” Jyn cuts in swiftly before Baze has the chance to chastise Chirrut. Cassian glances at them, curious to know as well.

 

“Ah,” Chirrut sighs, “the pilot, of course. You owe our dashing rescue mostly to Bodhi.”

 

Baze nods. “When we got back to the ship, it was empty. That’s when he commed and told us that there’s an outside inspection. Since there was no sight of them anywhere near the landing pad or their shuttle, we figured some buckethead sent them in your direction. Looks like we were right.”

 

“Thanks for that,” Cassian says weakly.

 

“The pleasure was ours,” Chirrut anwers cheerily as they make their way towards the ship.


End file.
